Poland Wears Pink Underwear
by Zelda-FF
Summary: Poland likes Alfred, but he's too dumb to notice the hints he's been dropping.  Includes blatant flashing on Poland's part, an awkward Toris, and a heat wave across the United States. USPol. Cracky.


This is utter crack and most likely OOC. xDD But boredom drives you to do terrible things. This is the first published "Poland Project" thingy. If you don't know what that is, go to my profile if you care. xDDD

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia! But I wish I did. :c

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"Yo, Poland!" the cheery self-proclaimed "hero" called, hurriedly picking up his briefcase to catch up with the Slavic nation. The skirt-wearing male hadn't heard, and continued to stalk away, swaying his hips like a girl. Alfred called out again, knowing if he didn't talk to the Polish boy he'd have to wait until the next meeting. However, due to his eagerness, he forgot to actually button the case closed. Disaster struck: about a billion sheets of paper coated the floor around him, a few gliding to the other side of the room.

Most witnesses just snickered, not a single passerby even pausing to pity him. America glowered up at England and France, who found his clumsiness absolutely hilarious.

"Next time this happens to you, you can forget about me helping!" Alfred's voice trailed off, having confused himself. "W-wait…I'm the hero…I have to help." He liked helping people-that's what heroes do!-but helping _villians_…? America knew a couple of instances where even the bad guys received help from the hero. _I would have helped them if their briefcase exploded…_

He sighed, hanging his head and proceeding to pick up the spilled papers one by one in the empty meeting room. Once he'd recollected all the pages within his reach, he scanned the remainder of the floor. He had no will or pride to stand up, so like the lazy guy he is, he crawled on his hands and knees towards the door, where one of the little lost documents had escaped to.

He let out an annoyed growl when he got there and grumbled something about "heroes being alone in this world" as he stretched out his hand to grab the piece of paper. He jumped when something lifted it from the ground before he could even touch it and realized he wasn't alone. Alfred felt silly that he hadn't even noticed the pair of legs until the owner of them spoke, waving the sheet in front of his face.

"_Co, Ameryka?_" he teased with a girlish giggle, "Like, as far as I can tell, there are two people in here."

The sassy male above him shifted his weight to one side, placing his free hand on his hip. He looked up at Poland, frowning at the piece of paper just above him then noticing how _close_ he was to him. Alfred was practically sitting on those ridiculous high-heels. He blushed when he realized he could easily see up Feliks' skirt, inching backward only to be followed by the effeminate gait. He averted his innocent blue eyes, though it was with some reluctance. It wasn't that he didn't want to look at all, but if he was caught he'd be accused of being a skirt-chasing pervert like Francis. America quickly snatched the piece of paper from the other's delicate hand.

Poland's mouth twisted into a satisfied smirk; making the confident little country squirm was fun. To torture the younger one a bit more, he playfully flicked Nantucket, the unruly little section of hair that always stuck up. He knew he was being a shameless flirt, but the hints he'd been dropping seemed to be lost on the thick-skulled American. "Like, you want me to help you?"

"Y-yeah, that'd be awesome! You're a lot cooler than those other European losers, Poland." he grinned, forcing himself to look at the other man's _face_.

"'Kay! I think I saw one go, like, over there…" He skipped rather girlishly to where he'd pointed, Alfred not taking his eyes from the pretty Polish male.

Feliks glanced over his shoulder, checking to see if his "audience" was paying attention. He could tell the American had been restraining himself from glimpsing up the tiny garment and was curious to see his reaction. He locked eyes with the other nation, one eye fluttering closed for just a moment in a fleeting wink. The next moment he was bending over to recover one of the sheets of paper, allowing himself to take as much time as he could. It had been Poland's full intent to give the poor American the most blatant panty-shot in history, but it was necessary to see what the simple male was really thinking.

"Like, my fingers are totally slipping, Alfred! _Boże_, I'm such a klutz!" he whined, the cross-dressing blond bent his knees a little, poking his butt out a little more. His delicate fingers "struggled" to grasp the sheet and he turned to pout cutely at the red-faced nation.

"Like, is something wrong, Al?"

"I'm fi-" his voice cracked, making him redden even more, but Feliks didn't think that was even possible. "N-no," America stumbled to his feet, adjusting his glasses uncomfortably. The Polish boy stifled a wry smirk at his success.

Instead, he frowned and straightened himself before hurrying to the hero's side and pressing a hand to his red forehead. His mouth fell open in "concern" and his eyebrows furrowed as if he were worried. "Jeez! Do you have, like, a fever or something?" he asked with perfectly feigned alarm and naivety.

"I'm-I'm okay, don't worry!" His attempt to convince the little blond was unsuccessful, to his chagrin.

"Nope! Like, lie down on the table, Nurse Feliks is giving you a physical assessment!" He pointed to the large circular table the countries of the world had been gathered around just a few minutes earlier. When Alfred didn't budge he pouted, brows furrowing and giving the younger the 'I get everything I want one way or another so you might as well do what I say' look.

The other country complied grudgingly, dragging his feet like an unwilling child. Keeping his wary blue eyes glued to Poland, he climbed onto the makeshift hospital bed and laid on his back, feeling strangely exposed and vulnerable. America was then ordered to remove his bomber jacket next, and doing so very reluctantly. The next thing the little nation did next made him jump, and he would have ran if he hadn't been pinned down.

Feliks had clambered up onto the table next to him and kneeled over him, tossing one of his legs over Alfred's torso as if mounting a horse. He sat on America's crotch, comfortably straddling the other with an almost France-like smile.

More lascivious behavior ensued, the victim squirming uncomfortably as the Polish boy began unbuttoning his shirt. Alfred grabbed the dainty hands with his own, but it was met with a chuckle. "I'm only like, checking your pulse! Jeez, what did you think I was doing?"

"But the doctor usually doesn't-" he mumbled, only to be met with a snap from Feliks.

"I like, don't have a stethoscope so it's harder to hear unless you like, take your shirt off!" he justified, opening America's dress shirt once all the buttons had been undone. Poland found _himself_ blushing at the sight of the supposed fast-food glutton's six pack, unable to take his half-lidded eyes from it.

Shaking his head quickly, he leaned down to press his ear against Alfred's chest, immediately greeted by rapid, prominent thudding. He giggled a little to himself; he would have been able to hear that heartbeat through the thick jacket, let alone a thin cotton shirt. He slid his arms behind America's head, slowly wrapping them around his neck, provoking a little shudder.

"Okay, like, take a deep breath for me, _proszę_." Poland instructed, and a very shaky and uneven breath followed. He scooted forward until they were face-to-face, noses nearly touching.

"Wh-what are you…" The older nation put an index finger to the other's lips, silencing him and disregarding the unfinished question.

"Like, say 'ah.' C'mon," he prompted. Feliks pouted when his request wasn't answered and parted the American's lips with his thumb. He smirked a little as Alfred swallowed his accumulating saliva. _He's literally drooling over me!_

He decided to raise the flirting to a dangerous level. "So like, _Ameryka,_ how's _Florida_ this time of year-"

"Mr. America? Poland!" a both surprised and appalled voice called from the hallway, interrupting.

_Damn. Totally forgot the door was open!_ Feliks cursed inwardly, turning to glare at his friend. He sat up for a moment, resting his hands on the American's torso. The Baltic's confused blue eyes flicked from one to the other, surveying the scene: Poland straddling America. America's shirt unbuttoned. Their faces hazardously close to each other. Toris flushed, realizing what he'd stumbled upon.

"_Wyno__ś__ się, Liet!_" Poland spat, causing poor Lithuania to shoot off faster than a horse coming out of the gate at the beginning of a race.

America fidgeted in an attempt to sit up. "I-I think I'm okay, Poland…" he stammered, causing the other to return his green gaze to his "patient."

"But like, I'm not done with the examination-" Again with the Francis-esque expression that made Alfred very nervous. He, being stronger than the Polish nation, flipped him so that _he_ was the one looming over. The American blushed, looking away as he strained to remember the thing he'd wanted to say just after the closure of the meeting.

"Uhh…C-coach-em see-ay, Feliks." he mumbled, completely botching the Polish phrase. This made Feliks laugh uncontrollably, having to cover his lip-glossed mouth.

"_What?_" he asked incredulously through strings of giggles.

"Damnit…I don't know how to say it…" Alfred reddened more, this time in embarrassment. This wasn't exactly how he thought the confession would go.

"Like, _obviously_."

"Shut up! I-I'll just spell it." he muttered, praying he wouldn't screw up the spelling, too, and began, "K-O-C-H-A-M. Space. C-I-E with a weird thingy on the bottom."

"_Kocham cię._" Poland corrected, pronouncing it properly for the English-speaker. It took him a moment to realize Alfred was saying that to _him_ and bit his lip. "R-really…?"

"Yeah-uh, _tak. _S-sorry, I'll get off now_-"_

He started to get up, but was forcefully pulled back down by a pair of delicate but surprisingly strong arms. America tried to protest as Texas was ripped from his face and tossed aside, but found himself incapable of speech with those Polish lips all over his mouth.

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A/N: Don't you just love the smell of chocolate chip crack cookies at 4 AM? 8D Yeah, me too. And nothing really makes sense right now, so yeah. xD

Poland is such a ho'. o_o BAD BOY. Don't taint poor America's innocence! And poor Toris. xD And whoever has to sit there for the next meeting. *shot 372047203547 times*

Review and stuff.

Polish translations, yay~ (And I didn't use Google Translate. :3 *proud of herself*)

_Kocham cię - I love you_

_Tak - Yes_

_Co - What_

_Ameryka - America_

_Wyno_ś_ si__ę - Get out_

_Boże__ - God  
_


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